17 October 1997
Dear  __________;

This was it, the big departure: at ten o'clock in the morning on Sunday, 12 October, I was to meet up with the people from the circus at Heathrow Terminal Four.  Only they weren't there on time.  (I was.)  Finally, a little after 2:30, we left on KLM for Amsterdam Schiphol Airport.  On an earlier stop-over about five years ago, I remembered buying some chocolates that were such an intense spiritual experience that my life has been downhill ever since, so I hoped to find them again.  I think I have.  After about three hours, it was on to our next flight: twelve hours to Bankok, Thailand.  Since I lost the fun camera out of my pocket, I had to buy a new one there.  This way, my VISA will show I was in four countries in different parts of the globe in one 24 hour period.  We were given our Taiwanese visas.  While many countries will enclose welcoming coupons, ours included a death threat: that's the penalty for trafficking in narcotics.  On arrival at Chiang-Kaishek airport, I saw a Chinese lady come up to members of our party offering to satisfy any needs.  It turned out that she worked for the circus, but that was not the first thought that crossed my mind.  It also transpired that the reason that the company were able to get good hotel accommodation for a reasonable price was that the government had tightened "licensing".  In other words, our hotels were former brothels, which explains the preponderance of mirrors in my room.  There is a sign in my room which says: "1.  Please keep calm and listen to the instructions given from the broadcasting system.  2.  Stay away from the windows.  3.  Please put out your cigarettes.  4.  Please do not use the elevator.  5.  Turn off the main switch in the room.  6.  When the earthquake has subsided, please follow the instructions given by our staff."  After a late production meeting I finally tried (without success) to go to sleep at midnight.  Although I didn't originally plan to bring the Eddie Bauer summer jacket that Gwen gave me, I'm glad I did, because Taiwan is sub-tropical.  Taipei is mad with motor-scooters.  A lot of the drivers wear masks across their faces.  They don't mind the toxic fumes, but the Chinese cannot stand dust.  I still can't believe I'm here;  I keep thinking that I am simply incredibly lost in Soho.  On the fourteenth, we were on stand-by all day, but there was no work because the tent had not yet arrived.  I spent much of the day catching up on sleep, then went out to a restaurant with members of the crew.  I drank Thai coconut juice, while the others drank beer.  (Apparently, some of the crew got drunk the first night, and we all got a lecture from the producer, PHilip Gandy.)  Whereas six months ago, Gwen and I were going out to ethnic restaurants in London and thinking it was pretty cool, now I'm doing it for real, and using chopsticks because there is no alternative.   For breakfast, I had a sort of omlette, rolled and sliced.  I don't know what they call it, but it's very good and very cheap: about $20NT.  (There are about $45 NT to the pound.)  The afternoon of the fourteenth saw us handing out leaflets in front of the SOGO department store.  People appeared ready to risk their lives to avoid us. If any fortune teller had told me I'd be doing this, I'd have said "You're supposed to read the tea leaves, not smoke them."  Once this was finished, most of the crew began erecting the tent.  I was given the option of doing the night security shift, which I took.  This gave me the afternoon to explore Taipei's brand new (and extortionately over-budget) rapid transit system.  There are two lines: one elevated light rail which goes to the zoo, and a full-scale metro system.  That night, I worked from about eight-thirty until six thirty the following morning with another member of the crew named Chris (who shared with me the distinction of having worked for Sir Stephen Wobbly-Conman) and a Chinese "interpreter" who knew about as much English as I know Swahili.  The next day, after ABOUT SIX HOURS SLEEP, I took the Metro out to Tanshui, where I walked along the sea wall for a couple of hours.  There is a Seventeenth century Spanish-Dutch fort there called Hung Mao Ch'eng, which I would like to explore.  One Canadian business name I didn't expect to find here was Petro-Canada, but I found their logo on a motor-bike shop.  We have been running behind, because the tent was late in arriving.  It seats four thousand people.  We open in about four days, and the animals -- tigers, bears, elephants -- have yet to arrive.  I wonder how I will feel standing on guard at night, hearing a hungry tiger growling in the dark, knowing full well that I would do just nicely.  I'll let you know more in my next letter.